


Normal Life

by wolfy_writing



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Other, gift shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:07:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2553956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TARDIS is gone, the Doctor is running a tawdry quirks shop, and Clara is seemingly going mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normal Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Real Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396669) by [nostalgia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia). 



As Clara stepped through the door of the shop, a little bell rang.  The Doctor looked up from the counter.

“Clara!  Hello!  How are you settling in?”

“I’m fine.  Good.  The new job is going well.  I’m thinking of going back to school, as soon as I have a bit of money saved up.”

“Good,” the Doctor replied.  “That’s really good.  Try engineering.  I suspect you’d have a talent for it.”

“Really?” asked Clara, surprised.  “Why?”  She’d never been good at maths.

“No reason.  I’d just give it a go if I were you.”

Clara stepped up to the counter.  “How are you these days?”

“Fine,” said the Doctor.  “I’m fine.  Shops doing decent business.”  He tapped the little bobble-headed ceramic ninja on the counter.

“You’d think the name above the door would put people off.  I mean all of this…rubbish is bad enough.”  Clara gestured to indicate the racks of joke t-shirts, decorative playing cards, and lumps of fuzz with googly eyes.  “But actually _naming_ the shop Tawdry Quirks?”

“Perhaps they appreciate the honesty.” the Doctor said.  “Either that, or it points to a sad decline in vocabulary.”

“But are you okay?”  Clara leaned on the counter.  “Really?  I know this must be hard for you, after…”

“That’s very thoughtful.”  The Doctor interrupted.  “But I’m fine, really.  It’s ordinary life.  Humans do it every day.  No reason I can’t.”  He began fiddling with a small ceramic dog.

“Yes, but…after losing the TARDIS…”

The Doctor’s fist tightened abruptly.  The ceramic dog shattered in his hand.  “Oh dear,” he said.  “Just let me get the broom and tidy that up.  Nice seeing you, Clara, I expect you should be going.”

“Your hand is bleeding.”

“Don’t worry, after thirteen hundred years, I’ve learned how to put a bandage on.  I’m sure you need to go, see to who is it…Jane and Michael?”

“Listen, I know it’s hard…”

“No,” said the Doctor, and his expression suddenly darkened.  “You don’t.  You don’t even begin to know   And you’re not going to know, because you’re human, and you don’t have the correct frame of reference to understand what happened and what it means.  You need to leave now.” 

Clara swallowed.  “Doctor…”

“This conversation…” he said, “Is over.”

Clara stepped away.  “I’ll be back, then?”

The Doctor nodded, and abruptly gave a nearly convincing smile.  “Lovely to see you.  Do pop in again any time.”

—-

Clara walked briskly down the street, cursing herself.  Why did she let him push her out the door like that?  She knew he wasn’t okay.   Up until recently, he’d actually seemed to be doing better.  He’d started speaking more, he took an interest in things, and his face no longer had that awful lost look from immediately after the…crash.

Those first few days had been bad, really bad.  They’d landed somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, and the Doctor had just shut down.  It had been all Clara could to to get him to walk away from the crash site, and after that he would just stumble after Clara, silent, staring at the sky as if he could will the crash to unhappen.

It had taken two days walking before Clara was able to flag a ride on a passing lorry.  Once they got into the city, Clara said something about not having money for food, and the Doctor had blinked a bit, then borrowed someone’s mobile and made a call to some UN agency Clara had never even heard of.   They’d sent some very kind people, who’d provided food and a place to sleep, and what they called a readjustment allowance for Clara.  They’d also offered to help her get a job, either her old one or something new, but she didn’t want to leave the Doctor until he got better.

After a month, the Doctor had started functioning more normally, and after two, he’d started talking about finding a job.   The UN people wanted him to do something scientific for them, but after he’d refused, they’d given him money for a shop, quite close to Clara’s new job.  Some old bloke named Benton had taken Clara aside and told her it would probably help the Doctor to be near her while he was getting adjusted, although she’d worked that out on her own.  He’d opened the shop, he’d worked, he’d gotten to know the neighbors, and had even started smiling again on occasion.

But now he was avoiding her.  He was avoiding everyone, according to Benton.  Spending all day selling tourist tat, then going straight home to sit in the dark.  She’d come to the shop, resolved to help, but he’d gotten dark and angry, and she’d let herself be pushed out the door.  So much for grand intentions.

Clara stopped at the light and glanced around.  She thought she caught a glimpse of a blue phone booth, but when she turned to look back, it was an ordinary red one.  An unpleasant-looking bald man stood next to it.  He looked her up and down, then smirked.

Clara rolled her eyes and turned away. 

A red-headed policewoman was suddenly standing right in front of her.

“Sorry,” said Clara.  “I didn’t see you there.”

The woman just stood there, oddly still.

“Can I help you?” Clara asked.  “Is everything okay?”  The woman looked a bit familiar, in a way that made Clara think of magazine adverts.

“I’m a messenger,” said the woman.  “Kiss-o-gram.  Tell the Doctor.  He’s lost in himself and won’t notice me.”

“Tell him what?”

“Trust nothing you see, or hear, or feel.  Look around you.  Examine everything.  Look for all the details that don’t ring true.”  She stepped forward and abruptly kissed Clara.  “Message delivered.”

Clara stepped back and touched her lips.  “Who _are_ you?”

The woman turned and walked off into the crowd.

“Wait, what’s your…”  Clara stopped, realizing she’d lost sight of the woman.  “…name?”

—-

“Hello, Miss Clara,” said Jane. 

“Nice to see you, Miss Clara.”  Michael stood and pulled out a chair.  “I’ve made you a cup of tea.”

“Cheers.  Thanks.”  Clara nodded and sat down.  Jane and Michael were the two most well-behaved children she’d ever been around.  She’d been there what, two months, and they always called her Miss Clara, and said “please” and “thank you” every time.  She’d been a bit worried her own imperfect manners would rub off on them, but so far, they’d been absolute angels.

_Look for the details that don’t ring true._

Clara turned to look Jane.  “How’s school?”

“Oh, lovely, Miss Clara!  Today we studied dinosaurs!  My favorite is the pterodactyl!”

Clara took another sip of her tea.  Well, Jane was quite young, and children that age tended to be quite keen on school. 

“Michael?” Clara asked.  “How about you?  Keeping up on the schoolwork?”  Michael was thirteen, and would probably have a few complaints.

“Yes, Miss Clara.”  Michael picked up an apple.  “May I take this to my room as a snack while I study?”

“Yes,” said Clara.  “Don’t leave the core lying about.”  Not that Michael ever did, but she wanted to feel like she was doing something.

“Of course not, Miss Clara.”  Michael went off to his room.

—-

“I don’t think they’re real.”

“What do you mean not real?” asked the Doctor, fiddling with a bin of plastic spiders.  “Oh dear, I think a real one in there.  Run along, little fellow, before someone tries to purchase you.”

“I mean they’re not real children!  They’re not human!  They’re robots, or clones or something!”

“Clones would be real children.  Genetic duplicates of other children, but still real.”  The spider crawled away, and the Doctor set the bin down with a satisfied look.  “Are you quite sure you’re not just having a bit of trouble adjusting?  Imagining alien invasions to break the monotony?” 

Clara shook her head.  “They’re not acting like children.  They’re acting like things from the planet where thirteen-year-old boys do their homework without being asked.”

“Some boys are just very well-behaved!”

“Every single day?”

“Okay, that is a bit suspicious.”  The Doctor looked up at Clara, with a hint of his old liveliness.  “Have you noticed any unusual-looking technology?  Strange mold on the ceiling?  Mysterious electrical interference?”

“No.  They’re just…too perfect.”  Clara pushed her hair back.  “It doesn’t fit.”  There hadn’t been a single dirty sock or inappropriate mud pie.

She remembered the strange red-headed woman with the message.  “Doctor I…”

“I’ll call UNIT and have them look into things.”

“UNIT?” Clara asked.  “Aren’t we going to investigate?”

“Best leave it to the professionals.”

Clara stepped back.  “Doctor, are you feeling okay?  You’re not ill or anything, are you?”

“I’m fine.  I…think I should stop trying to solve everything myself.  I’ve heard that’s what sensible people do.  And I’m going to need to adjust to being a sensible person.  I’ll be doing it for a very long time.”  He picked up a tray of wax lips.  “Don’t worry about it.  UNIT has become quite good at this sort of thing since I left.  I think it was the best thing I ever did for them, getting out of the way and letting them develop their independence.  I’ll get back to you.”

—-

On the way out of the shop, Clara heard a familiar-sounding wheeze, but as she turned to find it, a car backfired and she couldn’t hear it anymore.

A man whistled.  It was the creepy little bald man from before.  When Clara looked up at him, he just smiled in an unsettling way.

—-

“You were worried about the children?” asked Benton.  “We checked them out before you started working there.  They’re perfectly normal humans.  The whole family is.  I went back for another visit, and they’re just the same.  Very polite.”

“That’s it,” said Clara.  “They’re too good.  They never do anything wrong.  They never get muddy or forget to tidy up their things, or anything.”

Benton gave her a funny look.  “They seemed quite normal to me.”

“Normal?  Really?  How many human children do you know who never leave their things on the floor?”

“But they did!  At least the boy did.   He’d been out playing football, and left his muddy trainers on the floor.”

“Michael left muddy trainers on the floor?” Clara asked, astonished.  Michael had never done anything like that.

“Only for a bit.  His mum reminded him and he put them away properly.  He seems very well-behaved.”  Benton drew a deep breath.  “I’ve known several of the Doctor’s former traveling companions, and they often…see patterns which aren’t there.  They keep expecting alien invasions.  It’s like those blokes who come back from Iraq and keep thinking that every parked car could be a bomb.”

“I’m not imagining this!” snapped Clara.  “Something very odd is going on.”

—-

That night, outside her flat, the red-headed woman appeared.  She gave Clara a sharp look. “Did you deliver my message?”

“What message?” asked Clara.  “The kiss?”  She stepped back.

“You’ve already got one.  I don’t have to keep kissing you until the message is delivered, do I?  I don’t know how these sorts of messages work.”

“No,” said Clara, stepping back.  “No more kissing.  That’s definitely enough kissing from you.”

“Good,” said the woman, leaving Clara feeling strangely insulted.  “Tell him then, will you?”

“Tell him what, all of that stuff about not trusting what you see?”

“Tell him what’s happening!  I’m sure you can work it out.  I’m surprised you haven’t already.  You do have a little bit of a brain in there.”

“I’m sorry, is this some new service I’ve never heard of?  Snogging and insults?”

The woman sighed.  “Just tell him!  He needs someone and he won’t listen to me!”

“I’m going to go…inside now.  If you want to stalk the Doctor, you can do that by yourself.”  Clara stepped inside.

She froze.  Behind her, there was a familiar wheezing, groaning sound.  One she hadn’t heard since the crash.

She ran out, but there wasn’t a police box in sight.   All she could see was the little bald man with the bow tie, giving her an unpleasant stare.

The strange woman had vanished.

—-

The next day, Jane got mud on her school uniform because she hadn’t bothered to change into her play clothes, and when asked about school, Michael responded with a vague grunt. 

Clara still checked for wires when she brushed Jane’s hair, just in case.

—-

“How are the children?” the Doctor asked.  “Thank you, come again.”  He handed the customer the novelty playing cards. 

She’d asked if he could take a break from the shop, get a cup of tea or something, but he wouldn’t go.  He just worked, and after work…

Clara shuddered, remembering what Benton had said about the Doctor sitting alone in the dark.

“Fine,” said Clara.  “Normal.  Very suddenly normal.”

The Doctor frowned.  “What did UNIT say?”

“They said the children were perfectly normal.  They seemed to think the whole thing was in my head.”

“I see.”  The Doctor smiled at a nice old lady who ignored him and went straight for the display of false noses.

“What does that mean?”

“I mean I see,” he said, careful to keep the tone out of his voice.”

“That’s not how you said it the first time.  You said ‘I see’ like you wanted to say something.”

The Doctor looked down at the cash registered.  “I just meant that I thought this would happen.  Thinking things are suspicious when they aren’t.  I don’t know how anyone copes with not having monsters to fight.”

Clara gave him a look.  “No, you wouldn’t, would you?  Something very strange is going on.  And last night, I heard…”  She stopped, as the wheezing, groaning sound started.  “There it is!  Come on, Doctor!”

“There what is?” he asked, but she was already out the door.

Outside, the sound seemed to becoming from everywhere.  Clara turned in a circle, trying to find the source.  The little man with the bow tie gave her a leer, and then there was a sudden flash of blue.

The Doctor stepped out.  “What is it?”

“Did you hear that, Doctor?  Did you?” Clara asked excitedly.  “Did you see?”

“See what?”

“There was a TARDISy noise and everything went blue!”

The Doctor went still.  “I think you should see a doctor,” he said.  “A real one.”

“What?”

“I can call UNIT.  They must have some psychologists on staff, some sort of…readjustment counseling.  And…they can do other tests, see if it’s something neurological you picked up in space.”

“You think I’ve gone mad?” Clara asked.

“I’m thinking that the least worrying possibility right now is you being mentally ill. At least they have the technology to treat that.”

“I’m not mad!”

“Clara, listen.”  The Doctor put his hands on her shoulders.  “Perfectly wonderful, intelligent sensible, kind people can need help with their mental health problems  Don’t be ashamed of it.”

“I’m not ashamed, it’s just not true!”

“Are you sure?  You’ve been through several strange, confusing, frightening experiences.  You nearly died several times traveling with me and saw things that most humans simply won’t believe exist.  That can do strange things to your mind.  You can’t trust what you see right now.”

“That’s what she said.”  Clara turned away.

“Eh?”  The Doctor frowned.

“The woman.  The policewoman.  She had red hair and a Scottish accent, and she said I shouldn’t trust anything I see or hear.  She said I should examine everything and look for the details that don’t ring true.”

“Scottish?  Red hair?  Police uniform?”

“Yes,” said Clara.  “She said I should tell you, because you wouldn’t notice her.”

The Doctor shook his head.  “No, that’s impossible.  She’s gone.”  The Doctor stopped and looked down at his watch.  “We didn’t cross that bit of the timeline.  She can’t possibly be here.”

“Who?” Clara asked.  “Who?”

“Amy.  Amy Pond.  A former traveling companion.”

“And why is it impossible for her to be here?”

“She died.  Weeping angels.  She was trapped in the past, and she died.  I failed her.  I’m trying not to fail you, but you need the kind of help I can’t give.  You need to stay away from me, and find some humans, normal humans who can help you the way I can’t.”  The Doctor rubbed his face with his hands.  “I think we shouldn’t talk to each other anymore.  I’ll have UNIT contact you directly.  Please don’t try to speak to me again.  I won’t answer.”  He turned and walked into the shop.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Doctor!”

He didn’t look back.

—-

As Clara walked home, she wondered if she had been imagining things.  The noises seemed to be coming out of nowhere, and then the blue.

Perhaps she should see a Doctor, make sure she wasn’t having a stroke or anything.  And she’s stop seeing annoying women who didn’t exist.

Inside the door stood the red-haired woman.

“No!” said Clara.  “You’re not real.”

“Correct,” said the woman.

“You’re a hallucination!  You’re a hallucination, and we are not kissing again!”

“I’m a telepathic construct designed to communicate in a way you can comprehend.  And we can forgo the kissing.  My form is based on a previous companion of the Doctor’s, who used to work as a kiss-o-gram messenger.  I was trying to follow the protocols of your culture,” said the woman in an annoyed voice.  “I could bite you instead.”  The woman smiled.  “I’m quite fond of biting.”

“No!  No kissing!  No biting!  Just…stop talking to me.  I’m off to the doctor’s in the morning…well, not _the_ Doctor’s, a doctor’s.”

“That’s incorrect.  You should see _the_ Doctor.  Mentally, you’re as healthy as possible, considering the circumstances.  He, on the other hand, is hurting and he need someone to save him.  That is your mission.”

“Save him from what?”

“There’s a small man with a bald head and a bow-tie.  Take the Doctor to him, and he’ll understand what to do.  Is that clear?”

Clara was completely mystified as to how the creepy little man came into the alien invasion.  “If I say it’s clear, will you stop bothering me?”

“I’ll stop bothering you when you save him.”

“How am I supposed to do that?  He won’t speak to me.”

“Make him listen,” said the woman.  “Be pushy.  I know you’re good at that.  Make him listen, then find the little bald man.  He’ll understand, then.”  The woman looked down and shook her head sadly.  “He can help himself, to an extent, when he knows what the problem is.  It’s when he’s distracted that it all sneaks up on him.”

“Excuse me, are you quite finished being cryptic?”

“For now.”  The woman paused.  “But when you see him, tell him I love him.”

Something clicked in Clara’s head.  “…you’re not that Pond woman at all, are you?  You’re the TARDIS.”

“Finally, you understand.”

“But…you’re dead!”

“Obviously, I’m not.  Now stop wasting time, and go save him.”  The TARDIS vanished.

—-

 

 

“Doctor!”  Clara banged on the door.  “Doctor, you have to talk to me!  It’s the TARDIS!  She’s alive!”

The Doctor opened the door.  Inside, the flat was dark.  “Why would you say that to me?  Is this some kind of punishment?  Do you think I need someone to make me feel guiltier?”

“You don’t need that!”  Clara pushed her way in the door.  “You don’t need to feel guilty at all.  She isn’t dead!  She’s not dead, and I’m not mad, and there’s a way to solve all of this.”

The Doctor turned his head away.  “Of course it’s real, Clara.  It’s real and we have to accept that.  I got careless, and the TARDIS died, and now we’re trapped here forever.  You have to accept that, or it will get worse.”

Clara put her hand on the Doctor’s shoulder.  “What happened to you?  You’re not normally like this, so ready to believe the worst and give up.  Was losing the TARDIS so hard?”

“Hard?”  The Doctor leaned his head against the wall.  “She was the only thing I had left.  Did I tell you about my planet?”

“Not much.  I know you’re the last one left.”

“I am the last.  They’re all gone, and it’s not even slightly exaggerating to say that I’m the reason why.  I…destroyed it, and everyone on it.  It was necessary, I think.  But I didn’t like them , and If you kill someone you don’t like because you’ve told yourself you have to, it haunts you.”  He met Clara’s eyes.  “I’ve killed other people to.  Monsters, but some monsters are people, and some are sad, lost, hurting people who’ve been driven away from their homes and are doing the best they can to survive.  I’ve failed people and I’ve used people and I’ve hurt people.  If you could see how I’ve treated my friends since…the war, you’d probably start to suspect everyone would be better off if all of the Time Lords had died together.  But she stood by me, and she needed me, and she kept taking me off to places where other people needed me and I could help.  And I don’t have that anymore.  I don’t have _her_.  We were together for a thousand years, but I failed her, and now she’s dead.  So don’t come here with your pretty little fairy-stories about how she’s really alive.  I don’t think I can stand another one.”

Clara twisted her hands together.  “Doctor…”

“You know the horrible part?” the Doctor asked.  “The really horrible part?  Sometimes I get angry at her for dying.  For dying and leaving me trapped.  Because how could she leave me trapped like this, just because I failed and killed her.”

“Doctor, I know it hurts, but it’s true.  It’s all true.”

“If you have one merciful bone in your body, you will stop this.”

 “She’s alive and she loves you…”

“No, no, no!”  The Doctor put his hands over his ears.

“She is!”  Clara put her hands on the Doctor’s arm.  “She loves you and she won’t leave me alone until we’ve rescued you.”

The Doctor pressed his face to his hand.  After a moment, Clara realized he was crying silently.

Clara gave the Doctor’s arm an urgent squeeze.  “She sent me to help you!  She says if we find the little bald man so we can fix things.”

The Doctor stood there for a long moment, perfectly still.

“Doctor, please!”  Clara pressed her face against his shoulder.  “Don’t give up.”

After a moment, his face still in his hands, he said “What little bald man?”

“I don’t know. She just said to find a little bald man.”

He took his hands down, looking surprisingly calm.   “Clara, have you seen a little bald man?  About this high, a bit pudgy, looks middle-aged, dressed like me?” 

Clara nodded.  “He’s been leering at me from street corners.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, I’ve been stupid!”  The Doctor looked at Clara.  “Leering?  Really?”

“Yes!”

“Well, never mind. I’ve been so stupid!  Of course it was a trick!”  He turned to Clara.  “This is all my fault, and I’m so sorry, but I can get you out of this.”

“Took you long enough.”  The little man appeared.

Clara stepped back.  “Who are you and what have you been doing to him?”

“Call me the Dream Lord.”  The man smirked.

“Don’t call him the Dream Lord,” the Doctor cut in.  “We’re not going through that bit again.  Clara, this is me.  Well, part of me.  The bit that hates myself.  It’s apparently decided to drag you into a really nasty wallow in self-hatred for its own amusement.  Sorry about that, I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Don’t listen to him,” replied the Dream Lord.  “He promises that to all the girls, and never, ever keeps it.  Tell me Doctor, how’s River these days?  Still haunting a computer so you won’t have to face another loss?”

“Oh, shut up!” Clara snapped.  She turned to the Doctor.  “Your self-hatred has a name and a face and can trap you in an imaginary world, and you wanted to send me to a psychiatrist?”

“Actually,” said the Doctor, “he can’t do this.  He controls the content, but he can’t shove people in here.  Something else must be doing it.  Something must be keeping us unconscious in a shared dream.”

“Finally, he catches on.”  The Dream Lord sighed.  “He’s so proud of how clever he is, but when he needs it, is it of any use?  No.  He’s too busy wallowing in guilt to solve things.”

“Shut up,” said Clara.  “He doesn’t need you.”

“Oh, but he wants me around,” said the Dream Lord.  “Isn’t that right, Doctor?”

The Doctor coughed.  “Now whatever this is, we’re telepathically connected in a shared illusion.  Our bodies are probably unconscious, connected to some sort of neurological override.  And since the TARDIS is speaking directly with Clara, I’m guessing whoever did this to us was foolish enough to attach their machinery to the TARDIS.  I’m surprised we haven’t woken up already.”

“Guilt, my love,” said a voice behind them.

The Doctor and Clara turned.

A pale woman stood behind them.  She had dark hair piled messily on her head, and an odd-looking dress.

The Doctor swallowed.  “I…thought you were dead.”

The woman stepped closer.  “That’s how they trapped you.  I tried to reach you, but they used your guilt to make a wall.”  She put a hand on the Doctor’s face.  “Do you have to carry so much?”

The Doctor looked down.  “I can’t seem to help it.”

“And this is…?” Clara asked.

“The TARDIS,” said the Doctor.  “She once…it’s complicated.”  He looked back at the TARDIS.  “How long have we been out?”

“A few weeks.  Small crawling things took you.  They put you to sleep, but kept your bodies healthy.  So I had to let them live until I could get you free.”

“Can you wake us up?” the Doctor asked.

“Now that you’re listening I can.”  The TARDIS smiled. 

“So now what?”  Clara blinked  
   
—

When her eyes opened, she was lying in a bed.  Something was strapped to her head, and several needles were sticking out of her arm.

“Easy!” said the Doctor.  “Let me help you with that.”  He reached for her head.

“Needles first!” snapped Clara.  “Needles first!”

The Doctor shrugged and removed the needles.  “These aren’t dangerous.  They’re just a system for nutrient exchange and waste removal.  The clever bit is…never mind, the machine is the dangerous bit.  If they hadn’t tried to use the TARDIS as a power source, we might have been trapped indefinitely.”  He removed the machinery.

“They?” asked Clara.  “Who are they?”

Something skittered into the room.  The Doctor turned.  “I think we’ve found our captors.”

The creature crept closer.  It…looked like a tangle of neon wire that kept fading in and out in a way that made Clara’s eyes hurt.

“A word of advice,” said the Doctor.   “You’ve just crossed a very ancient, very powerful being, and if I were you, I’d take the chance to get away while I still can.”

The creature reached towards the Doctor. 

A sudden humming sound started, making Clara’s teeth itch.  The creature crumpled to the ground.

“I told you,” said the Doctor.  “She’a ancient, powerful, and not as forgiving as me.”  He bent down.  “Now if you explain everything to me very carefully, I might be able to get you out of here alive.”

“I was trying to help her!” The creature writhed on the ground.  “I thought you were vermin!  I didn’t know you were her pet!”

“Her pet?”  Clara stifled a smile.

“Yes, well…she has very strong opinions about keeping me around.  And you don’t exterminate sentient beings like vermin!”

“Sentient?”  The creature sounded baffled.  “You’re temporal and animal.  You two aren’t people the way she is.  But I wouldn’t have killed you if I knew you were important to her.”

“Hey!” said Clara.  “What do you mean, not people?”

“Cultural differences,” said the Doctor.  “But the important thing is that you are going to go away, and never come back, and next time you think you’re dealing with vermin, ask.  Maybe even ask the vermin our opinions.  Goodbye.”

With a scream, the creature vanished.  
Clara looked over at the Doctor worriedly.  “What happened?”

The Doctor put a hand on the wall.  After a moment, the tension faded from his shoulders.  “The TARDIS dropped him into his own dimension.  Rather roughly.”  He smiled.   “No permanent damage.  She just wanted to vent her feelings a bit.”

Clara sat up.  She had to push herself upright with both arms.

“Easy,” sad the Doctor.  “Your muscles will be weak from not moving.  The TARDIS has some…unusual medical technology, so you should be fine in about a day.  But for now, go slowly.”

Clara slid her legs over.  “I desperately need to brush my teeth.”

—

A few hours later, Clara’s teeth were cleaned, her hair was combed, and she’d had time to think.

She found the Doctor in the console room, staring at the instruments.

He looked up.  “Hi.  Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Clara.  “Got cleaned up, I no longer have a month’s worth of morning breath, life is much better.

The Doctor looked down at the panels.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.  You didn’t put me into a coma.”

“Yes, but I certainly made it more unpleasant for both of us.”

“That’s not your fault,” said Clara.  She stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder.  “You know that stuff you said about perfectly wonderful, kind, intelligent people needing help?”

The Doctor snorted.  “Therapy?  I’ve met Freud.   This would be a bit beyond him."

“There has to be…something.”

“Self-discipline.  Self-control.  Not going to pieces at other people and dragging them into my problems.”

“That’s a terrible solution!” said Clara.  “Sitting around letting things fester is probably why your self-hating side has a name and a face."

"I think it's more complicated than that."

"But it can't be helping!"  Clara looked into the Doctor's eyes.  "You can talk to people, you know."

"I'll keep that in mind."  The Doctor turned away.  "Now I don't know about you, but I could do with some exercise after all of that...coma.  How do you feel about flight?  It's good exercise for your arms."  He made a flapping gesture.

Clara bit her lip.  "Okay, I guess.  Doctor..."

"Very low gravity on that planet, combined with a highly unusual surface.  If you fall, you bounce."  He smiled.  "Nothing to worry about.  You might want to get changed, though.  Flying doesn't combine well with skirts."

"Right."  Clara turned.  "I'll just...go find some trousers."  She walked off down the hall.  "Nothing to worry about,” she muttered to herself.  “Nothing to worry about at all.”


End file.
